


Of Authors and Angels

by EmpressKT



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Drinking, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:02:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpressKT/pseuds/EmpressKT
Summary: After the untimely death of his fiancée, Rowan Whitethorn was prepared to drown his life in a bottle of whiskey. He had a novel to write, but the words would not come, friends that called, but he could not bring himself to speak to, and the weight of the world on his shoulders that he could not bear. One day, an unexpected visitor came and made him a promise and she intends to see it through.
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn
Comments: 13
Kudos: 63





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This idea has been bouncing around in my brain for several years and I think it’s finally time I bit the bullet and posted it. It’s still a work in progress, but I’m hopeful that I can post a completed story eventually. That would be a nice change of pace for once. Please enjoy!

The blank page was mocking him; he was sure of it.

Rowan sighed, running his hands along his face as he stared at the open word document on his computer, as empty as it had been yesterday and the day before. He spent countless hours wasting away at his desk, willing the words to come, but he just could not find a single cohesive thought from which he could garner even a modicum of inspiration. It was downright shameful how much time he spent attempting to write something, anything. Writing was all that he had wanted to do with his life, and yet he couldn’t seem to create anything of value. The irony was not lost on him.

Frustrated, he slammed his laptop closed and stomped his way into the kitchen. He needed a drink. Something strong. He could feel the maddening self-loathing bubbling up his throat, choking him as he tore through his cabinets. Cursing, he slammed the doors shut as he came up empty. He threw open the refrigerator, hoping that he might have an extra beer lying around, but was met with bare shelves. He added grocery shopping to his mental list of things to do today, along with writing a novel and wallowing in self-pity.

He made his way into the living room and slumped on the couch. Apparently, both grocery shopping and writing would have to wait because wallowing was starting right now.

He ran a hand down his face and felt the sharp pricks of his unshaven cheeks as he stared up at the ceiling. If only Lyria could see him now. She had been such a joy, a light in his life. He was a miserable ass, broody and misanthropic to a fault. And yet, she picked him. They were happy. They were supposed to have decades together, a lifetime together. But not now. Not anymore.

He drew in a ragged breath as he scrunched his eyes against the pinpricks of tears that threatened to spill over. She would be so disappointed that he fell so far from where they had been, that he drowned himself in a bottle night after night to dull the pain of losing her. That he felt so far removed from the one thing left in the world that brought him any joy that he could no longer create. Some days he just felt nothing.

He really needed a drink.

Slowly, he rolled off the couch and padded towards his bedroom. A quick change of clothes, some deodorant to mask the days' old musk from a lack of showering, and a quick comb through his hair and he made his way out the door. There was a pub down the street, and while he generally didn’t like to be drunk in public, it was better than sitting around in his apartment without the buffer than alcohol provided him. So to the pub he went.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was several hours later that Rowan stumbled through the door to his building. He tripped up the stairs to his apartment, gripping the railing for support. The hallway was blurry in the late hour, and he couldn’t quite place exactly where his door was through the haze clouding his senses. Reaching out with his hands, he trailed them along the walls until he bumped them into the hard planes of the door frame. He breathed a sigh and leaned his head against the cool wood, pulling the keys from his pockets. They dangled limply from his fingers as he stood in the hallway, contemplating if it was worth the hassle of attempting to unlock the door or if he should just pass out on the floor. The coldness of the door did feel remarkably good against his forehead, but his nosy neighbors might have something to say in the morning if they saw him in this state.

Resigned, he pushed the key into the lock, albeit a bit unsuccessfully, and opened the door to his apartment. The door quickly and unexpectedly gave way, and he fell into the doorway, landing face-first on his living room floor. Groaning slightly, he rolled onto his back as he attempted to get his body back under control. He covered his eyes with his hand, trying in vain to still the spinning sensation and nausea he was experiencing. Cursing his stupidity for drinking far past his limit, he kicked the door shut, and the slam echoed loudly in the silence.

He lay there for several minutes, just breathing in and out. He barely registered the pain in his foot from kicking the door, but he was sure it would bruise. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere tomorrow. It was just another day of him sitting in front of his computer willing words to come and then drinking himself into oblivion when they didn’t. And maybe grocery shopping if he got around to it. But for now, he just wanted to sleep.

He slowly pulled himself off the floor and made his way towards his bedroom. He didn’t bother to turn on any lights, so he staggered down the hall in the dark, kicking his shoes off as he went. Pulling his shirt over his head, he stumbled into his room, seeking purchase on his dresser for stability. The sight of his bed filled him with relief, and he was desperate for the comfort of his pillows and the warmth of the blankets.

A soft glow in the corner of his eye gave him pause as he turned his head towards the door. His eyes widened as a beautiful woman stepped into his room, her head buried in a small black book. She was wearing a sleeveless dress made out of some sort of shiny flowing material that moved with each step that she took. Her long blonde hair fell in waves down her back but was partially concealed by the enormous white wings protruding from her shoulders. Rowan gasped as he realized that this woman, whoever or whatever she was, was the source of the golden light that now illuminated his room.

The woman stopped and turned her head towards him. Rowan realized his mistake and quickly closed his mouth. His disbelief was mirrored in her face as she eyed him warily. She turned her body and faced him, and he swallowed hard as he looked her over, his heart thumping almost painfully in his chest. She was beautiful, so beautiful that it didn’t seem natural. Her bright turquoise eyes furrowed in anger and confusion but shone as if they were beacons in the night.

He gulped slightly as this unworldly creature made her way towards him. She stopped a few inches away from him, and his nose immediately filled with an enticing aroma of jasmine, lemon, and a crackling fire. It would be intoxicating if he weren’t so drunk or so terrified. He stared at her dumbly, unable to move or speak. She made no move closer to him but continued to eye him with an intense glare. Rowan held her gaze as she lifted her hand and waved it back and forth in front of his face.

Not expecting the motion, he flinched away from her slightly, expelling the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. Her eyes widened in shock as she quickly withdrew her hand and placed it down by her side. She jumped back away from him and cocked her head. Rowan felt uneasy under her penetrating gaze, but it was different than before. More curious observation than the murderous glare previously, but still just as unnerving.

“Can you see me?” she asked, her lilting voice echoing slightly in his room. Rowan frowned in confusion before nodding mutely to her question, not once removing his eyes from her face.

“Well, that simply will not do.” She snapped her fingers, and Rowan felt himself overcome with exhaustion, his eyes sliding closed as he felt his body fall back.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I've read and re-read this part like 15 million times and I'm probably never going to be satisfied with it, but I'm posting it. Here it is! Hope you all enjoy it.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

Aelin was panicking. She paced the floor, back and forth, frantically wringing her hands in front of her. He wasn’t supposed to see her. Mortals weren’t aware of her kind, and at most could only perceive a slight shift in the air if they were around. But to have someone see her? That was impossible. Or it should have been. And yet, this mortal man _had_ seen her, heard her, and responded to her question before she unceremoniously rendered him unconscious. 

She paused, wincing slightly as she glanced at the man’s body at her feet. Perhaps knocking him out had been a bit hasty. She was sure his head would hurt from hitting the floor, but she didn’t have time to be concerned about that now. She had much bigger problems to worry about. Fear leached into her gut.

None of this was normal. _He wasn’t supposed to see her._ That was the rule. She came, she did her job, and she left. Humans weren’t supposed to know that she exists, that their kind exists. She didn’t know what this meant. She had been around countless numbers of humans in the last 3000 years, and none of them could see her. She didn’t know why this mortal man was so different. She racked her brain for any mentions from the others about humans seeing their kind, but her mind drew a blank. Although, she knew that fear likely kept such information from being uttered in the first place. The Tribunal was unforgiving even when it came to trivials matters, but for this? She shuddered to think of the consequences.

The mortal man shivered in his place on the floor, and she felt a pang of guilt sweep through her. She was she hadn’t considered the temperature of the hardwood floors or the fact that he was half-clothed when she knocked him out. She waved her hand slightly and levitated him towards his bed. He fell with a soft thump against the sheets, the blankets folding softly over his torso. He let out a sigh of contentment, and her guilt subsided just a bit.

With him safe in bed, she walked to the living room. She started pacing again, trying to make sense of what happened. She replayed her departure over in her head and knew that she hadn’t missed anything before leaving. But that still didn’t explain how he could see her. Would other humans be able to see her? Or would it only be him? If other humans could see her, that would present a significant problem and might prevent her from completing her mission. It was already bad enough that he could. She needed to know where she stood before she came up with a plan.

She vanished in a brief flash of light and found herself on the streets outside the building. It was late, but there were still a few people lingering despite the hour. She noted that no one glanced her way when she appeared, but she refused to take any chances. She saw someone walking down the sidewalk on the opposite side, and decided to make her move. Jumping into the air, she glided until she landed in front of them and planted herself right in the middle of their oncoming path.

“Hey, you there. Can you see me?” Aelin said.

Her target did not glance up from the phone they held in their hand or even registered that she had spoken to them. She moved out of the way as they walked past her on the sidewalk. Aelin reached out to touch them, and although she could feel the warmth of their arm, they did not react to her. They did not acknowledge her at all.

Satisfied with that interaction, but still feeling uneasy, she launched into the air and flew down the street until she sourced another human and repeated the same to them. They also did not notice her presence. She continued, human after human, until dawn was blinking over the horizon, and still they did not sense her.

So how was it possible that Rowan Whitethorn could see her?

Exhausted, she returned to his apartment and sat down in a worn armchair in his living room. Regardless of the evening’s events, she was grounded on this plane of existence until she completed her mission. With no more than a thought, a black notebook materialized in front of her. She opened it to a page where a picture of Rowan stared up back at her.

_Subject: Rowan Whitethorn_

_Age: 28_

_Species: Human Male_

_Duration of Assignment: 30 days_

30 days. She was stuck here for 30 days. Stuck with the subject of her assignment who could see her, hear her, interact with her. To say that it made completing her mission difficult was putting it mildly. It was a disaster. She had no idea how she was going to manage to navigate this situation with him. He was asleep for now, yes, but soon her spell would wear off, and he would have so many questions that she would need to answer. But how? She couldn’t tell him the truth. If things were as she suspected, then the truth was the last thing he needed to hear. But she needed to tell him something. She just wished she knew what.

She hardly paid attention as words materialized on the pages of her notebook as quickly as she thought them - notes about how the events of the evening transpired, notes about her new charge, and how nothing made sense. The notes would later become her mission report, edited heavily, of course, because the Tribunal could never know what happened. She shivered, thinking what kind of retribution they would wring from her immortal soul this time. 

Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she finished up her notes, and her notebook blinked from existence. She heard grunting from down the hall, and she stilled. She sent a finger of her power towards the bedroom to check on him. She breathed a sigh of relief when she learned that he was still asleep. Curious about her ward, she walked back into his room. He had gotten comfortable since she left him in bed, the blankets now low on his waist and his arm draped over his head. The streetlamp outside his window cast an orange glow on his body. Aelin stared at the planes of his face, softened by the comforts of sleep.

The softness made him look younger. Handsome even, if she were completely honest. Aelin thought back to the portrait in her notebook, where his face was set in a deep scowl. Here, he seemed almost content, as if he was no longer burdened by whatever demons he faced when he was awake. She wondered when he smiled last. She saw the lines around his mouth and knew that he did at some point, but she wouldn’t be here if he still did. Her stomach tightened a bit at that last thought.

She grimaced as she remembered her task. Handsome or not, Rowan Whitethorn was nothing but a mission to her. It would not matter to her when he had smiled last; she was there to complete a job, and she would not fail. She would not let his presence deter her from her objective one bit. And it was only 30 days. What were 30 days to an immortal being who had already lived innumerable lives? Nothing but a blip of time, and then she would be on her way home.

She retreated to the living room and curled herself up in the armchair. She stared out the bay windows overlooking the massive city, the sun finally making its presence known to the world. The events of the day had finally caught up with her, and she could get feel her energy waning. She tried to stay awake, but within moments, she was fast asleep.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Rowan opened his eyes slowly, groaning at the sunlight streaming through his open window. He covered his face with his hands, focusing on keeping the pounding in his head at a minimum. His head hurt something fierce. How much alcohol did he drink? The details of the night before were a little hazy after he left the pub, but it was nothing that concerned him. It had happened many times before and surely would again. He remembered getting home, but after that, it was a blur. He wasn’t sure how he made it to his bed, but he was thankful that he did. It wouldn’t have been the first time he fell asleep on his cold floor, but he was grateful that he managed to avoid it all the same.

The unpleasant gurgling in his belly drove him from his bed to the bathroom. He emptied the contents of his stomach in the toilet, immediately regretting his decision to drink as much as he did the night before. Still, he needed to forget everything for a while, and the alcohol had done its job. It was too bad he had a splitting headache to go along with it. And from the dull ache in his foot, a bruise as well. He vaguely remembered kicking something last night, but again, he supposed it didn’t matter in the long run. Besides going grocery shopping today, he wasn’t doing anything except staring at an empty word document until it was time to drink himself into another coma.

He begrudgingly pulled himself off the bathroom floor and limped his way into the kitchen. He searched through several cabinets before eying the jar of coffee grounds and began prepping his coffee machine. At least he had coffee. It may not be food, but it would stave off the hangover long enough for him to function somewhat like a human. And maybe put a delivery order in for actual food. And perhaps actually write something for a change instead of angrily staring at a computer screen for hours on end. The coffee machine beeped, signaling that it was done, the enticing aroma clearing his head a bit. Perhaps he might even make it into the shower before the day was done.

He filled a mug with the steaming coffee and walked out into the living room. He pulled the cup up to his lips to take a drink when he stopped. His eyes grew wide as he stared at the armchair in the corner of the room.

There was a woman sleeping in his chair.

There was a woman _with wings_ sleeping in his chair.

He almost dropped the mug in his surprise, but thankfully, he was able to stop himself in time. He gently placed it down on the coffee table and silently tiptoed towards the chair, careful not to wake her. He paused as he took in the sleeping form in front of him. She appeared to be a young woman, and her face burrowed in the curve of her elbow. The rest of her body had curled up in a ball under the massive white wings folded around her. Her golden hair fell in curls around her face. The light that poured into the room made the woman look like she was glowing.

Confused, he tried to remember the previous night, wondering if he had let this strange woman into his apartment. He paced around the living room as he replayed the events of the night before. He remembered going to the pub, getting completely drunk, and coming home, but could not remember much after that. Only bits and pieces that came back in a rush. The pain in his foot from kicking…something, stumbling down the hallway, a soft golden light…

He whipped back to the woman in his chair. She _did_ seem to be particularly radiant, more so than the average person. He rubbed at his eyes a bit, hoping that it was a trick in the morning sun. When he opened them back up, his face fell when the aura surrounding her did not disappear. Angry and desperate to prove to himself that she was just a strange woman with wings (because that wasn’t just as absurd as a woman who glowed), he stalked over to the curtains and pulled them closed. Triumphant, he turned back to the woman to see that he was right and gasped in shock. _She was still glowing._ Whoever this woman was, she certainly didn’t belong in his apartment, and probably not even on Earth.

He walked over to the chair and shook the woman by the shoulder. His hand brushed against the wings that covered her and marveled briefly at their softness before realizing with no small amount of dread that they were, in fact, real. The hope that they were an elaborate costume fizzled and died inside him with that touch. There was no mistaking that this person was decidedly not human. And the last thing that Rowan needed, on top of everything else, was having a _not human_ guest in his apartment.

The woman did not budge, but let out an ungraceful snore in her sleep. If he weren’t so keen on having her removed, he might have found it comical. However, he was in no mood for jokes at the moment. He shook the woman again, more forcefully this time, hoping to rouse her from her slumber. Slowly, she stirred and lifted her head from her arm. She yawned loudly in his face and stretched her arms over her head before blinking lazily at her surrounding. As she focused on him and how close he was standing to her, her face shifted into something murderous. In a manner of seconds, the woman launched herself from the chair and was now hovering high above him. Her wings were spread wide, and her face was contorted with a mixture of confusion and anger. He just stared at her in disbelief as she floated around his apartment.

Yup, he was definitely crazy. Or maybe still drunk.

Because there was _no way_ that a glowing woman with wings was flying around his apartment right now.

He gawked dumbly at her as she landed in front of him, anger still lining her features. She folded her wings in tight along her back and placed her hands on her hips.

“Well, that was rude,” she said sarcastically. “I guess it was too much to ask to sleep in this morning.”

Rowan continued to stare at her in dumbfounded silence.

“Would you quit looking at me like that?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to grow an extra head if that’s what you’re worried about.”

That shook Rowan from the daze he had been trapped in since he saw her sleeping in his chair. Whatever awe he felt was washed away and replaced by anger. His eyes narrowed at the winged woman in front of him.

“Quit looking at you like _what_ , exactly?” he replied disdainfully. “ _You’re_ the one who’s breaking and entering. This is my apartment.”

She scoffed at him. “As if I needed to resort to something as ridiculous as breaking and entering to get in here. I am beyond such things.”

“Well, excuse me then, princess. I did not mean to offend your abilities for getting into places you don’t belong,” said Rowan mockingly, sketching a scornful bow. “But you kindly need get the fuck out of my apartment before I call the cops.”

She sighed, and her feathers puffed up slightly behind her. He might have found it charming, actively ruffling her feathers a bit, had the circumstances been different. But now, he mostly just wanted her to leave him alone. She placed her hands on her hips and drew herself up to her full height. She was shorter than him, but not by much. However, he felt her power crackle in the room. It was imposing in the small confining space, and suddenly, he remembered that perhaps he should have been scared of her.

“Two things, Rowan Whitethorn.” He paused as she spoke, her commanding voice filling the space. He was surprised that she knew his name, but that was the least of the surprises that morning.

“One, mortals cannot perceive of me or my kind, so you will find that calling for the police will do nothing to help you in removing me from the premises. Two, you will find that it is actually impossible to do so as I am grounded on this plane for the next 30 days, and I am bound to you, so where you go, I must follow.”

Well. That certainly answered some questions. She wasn’t human it seemed. Or from Earth. But now he had a million more.

“Who are you?” he asked carefully.

“My name is Aelin,” she replied.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, _what are you?_ ”

She hesitated a bit before speaking. Rowan held his breath, but for what, he didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he was going to like what she had to say. The whole world seemed to still as she spoke.

“I’m your guardian angel.”


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone! Thank you so much for the kudos and the comments. I really appreciate all of you taking the time to read this story that I'm writing. Here's the next chapter! It's a bit rough, so please bear with me.

A guardian angel.

Rowan’s mind was reeling. A part of him was still in disbelief at everything he had witnessed in the short amount of time he had been awake. That part clung desperately to the belief that he was still drunk, that he was hallucinating, that guardian angels didn’t exist, and he would wake up in his bed in a few hours, with all of this nothing more than an alcohol-induced fever dream.

The other part was angry.

Angry because he knew what guardian angels did, or at least he had some idea. Angry that some higher power felt that he needed protection or guidance or whatever. Angry that he received this divine intervention when Lyria did not. She could have been saved. She could have _lived_. Instead, they abandoned her. Abandoned her and focused on him, it seemed. To what end, he didn’t know, but he wanted no part in their schemes. They could all rot in hell for all he cared.

His fists clenched as each wave of fury crested over him. The angel – Aelin - did not seem to notice that anything was amiss. He felt like he was about to burst out of his skin. He needed to get out of here. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but he surprised even himself with what came out.

“No.”

It was a simple word, but a year’s worth of grief dragged out from him as he said it. It sounded harsh to his ears, and perhaps he meant it to be that way. He noted the surprise on the angel’s face, but it was of little consequence to him.

“Get out.”

“Were you not listening?” she stated, annoyed. “I cannot go anywhere. I am bound to you.”

He was practically growling at her now, but she didn’t look the slightest bit frightened. She narrowed her eyes at the tone, which only served to set his nerves more on edge. He drew himself up to his full height and gloated, knowing he towered over her. She was tall for a woman, but he knew he had a few inches on her. He could see the muscle in her lithe form, but going to the gym was perhaps the only other thing that distracted him apart from getting drunk each night. He knew that if she were human, he could probably take her.

But she wasn’t human. She was his guardian angel. And while there was a small, perhaps foolish part of him that wanted to test himself against her, it had been drowned out by the rage caused by her very presence. And that rage wanted her gone.

“I don’t give a fuck. Get. out.” He spat out the words towards her, taking a small bit of satisfaction in her wince. He threw the front door open, the smash echoing throughout his apartment. The angel didn’t move as he gestured into the blessedly empty hallway. He spent too much time already dealing with his neighbors and their tendency to pry into his life. He did not need them to bear witness to him completely losing it in his living room. The angel hesitated, but he continued to glare at her from his post, silently willing her to move.

There was a tense silence that filled the room as he continued to stare her down. The angel didn’t break his gaze, but he could see the worry written on her face. He could feel that energy of hers crackle around them like invisible bolts of lightning dancing in his living room. Rowan took a steadying breath, hoping it would help him calm down, but each passing second he stared at her only served to stoke his ire further. He knew that one of them would break, and he hoped that in the end, it wouldn’t be him.

But as quickly as it started, the angel’s power disappeared, leaving nothing but hollow emptiness in its place. The angel sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She walked towards the door, pausing briefly in front of him. He could feel his whole body tense as she turned her face towards his, her bright turquoise eyes meeting his. For a split second, he could see something like sadness in her gaze, but it was quickly replaced with determination.

“I don’t want to fight you, Rowan. I am here for a very specific purpose, and you will not prevent me from doing that. For now, I will leave you alone, if only so you can get your bearings. But I cannot go away forever. ”

She walked through the door, and Rowan could only stare after her. Once she was out on the landing, she turned to face him once more and vanished in a flash of bright light.

\-----

A few moments later, Aelin appeared on the roof.

A cry of frustration tore from her throat. None of this was supposed to happen this way. She knew he would have questions. She knew he had every right to be angry about her presence. From all the time spent around mortals, she’d learned that they didn’t take too well to the unknown. And she was about as unknown as they came.

But Rowan was furious.

Her notebook appeared in front of her, and she snatched it out of the air. She flipped it open until she came to his picture and read through his profile once more, hoping to glean some information about why he would be so upset at her presence. She figured that he would have been pleased to have a guardian angel. They were generally pretty well revered amongst the human species, at least that’s what she was led to believe.

However, there was nothing in her notebook that would of any help to her. She was well and truly on her own. With an angry shout, she flung the book away from her, and it vanished in midair.

None of it was supposed to be like this. She was just supposed to come to Earth, do the mission, and go home. Just like she had done for millions of others over the last few millennia. When humans don’t see her, it’s straightforward and easy. Boring, even. She had anticipated a month of lazing around, hoping Rowan didn’t have crap taste in television.

But all of that had gone to shit. And now she had to keep track of a charge who didn’t want her around.

She could maintain her distance, sure. She didn’t have to be right next to him all the time, but she needed to be close by in case anything happened. It was too risky not to be. She would have to take extra care in staying hidden from him. Probably have to find somewhere else to stay while he was in his apartment. She didn’t think she could spend the next 30 days with him looking at her with such loathing in his pine-colored eyes.

Gods, it would have been so much easier if he couldn’t see her.

She sat on the edge of the building and buried her head in her hands. How was she supposed to get through the next 30 days with this mess?

A sharp tug near her ribs pulled her from her reverie, and she peeked over the side of the building. It was closer to the afternoon if she were to guess by the sun, so the streets were filled with people and passersby, making tracking difficult. Her eyes scanned the small crowd below before she finally spotted a man taller than most with bright silver hair making his way determinedly down the street. She launched herself into the air and vowed to keep her distance from him, only enough so that he couldn’t sense her presence.

She followed him for several blocks until he stopped in front of a building and pushed his way inside. She dropped down in front of the door and read the sign on the storefront, flashing in bright red letters.

_Mistward Pub_

She knew what a pub was. Plenty of the mortals she visited went to them on occasion, so she knew what he was likely here to do. However, she was sure that he was drunk the night before. So drunk that he had barely been able to stand. She remembered smelling the alcohol on his breath, the stink of smoke in radiating off his clothes before she knocked him out. And here he was again, only a few hours later.

A small part of her knew that it wasn’t solely because of her. He drank the night before she got there, and he was here now, so this likely had been going on long before she ever appeared. But it didn’t sit right with her that whatever he was feeling about her presence drove him to drink again. She wouldn’t judge him for seeking solace in whatever ways made sense to him, but she never wanted to cause him any pain regardless of everything.

She knew she needed to keep tabs on him, but she couldn’t bring herself to step inside the building. He came here to escape, so she would let him do so. Instead, she flew up to the roof to keep her vigil until he decided it was time to go home.

\----

It was almost dark by the time that Aelin felt that tug again. She spent her afternoon making notes in her journal and watching the people walk by below her. There were so many different types of people, all congregated in one place. If she were mortal, she might have liked this place. It seemed so full of life, with everyone bustling around, talking animatedly, smiling, and laughing at each other. She’d have to remember this place so she could come back and visit if she ever got the chance.

She glanced at the pub's entrance to see Rowan stumble out and immediately fall to his knees on the sidewalk. Someone stopped to help him up, but he just swatted them away and pushed himself to his feet. He walked a few feet haphazardly and she noticed that many of the people around him gave him a wide berth.

She flew down from her lookout and hovered behind him. He was drunk enough not to notice her, and she could hear vague grumblings from him as he continued on the path back to his apartment. She tried not to cringe each time he accidentally ran into someone or something, but she feared that meddling might make things worse.

When he arrived at his building, she loosed a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and followed him inside. It was only for the night, to make sure that he was okay. He had been at the pub for a long time, so she could only guess as to how much alcohol was coursing through his system. She knew that mortals could not consume alcohol and not face any ill effects. She just had to make sure he was safe.

When he finally made it inside his apartment, she finally took matters into her own hands. She reached out and placed her hands on his shoulders to guide him towards his bedroom. It was still early, but he would likely be useless until tomorrow. The least she could do would be to help him sleep, mostly since she was part of the reason he was in this state. He didn’t notice her presence, or if he did, he didn’t remark on it and quietly walked towards his room.

He immediately crashed into his pillow the second they passed the threshold without even bothering to change. Perhaps it was for the better since it didn’t take long for his quiet snores to fill the silence that surrounded her. She walked over to where he lay and kneeled in front of him. His face was contorted in that deep scowl that seemed permanently etched on his mouth, almost as if he were in pain. His silver hair, messy from his time in the bar, fell across his forehead. She reached out with her hand and brushed it back, a brief flash of bright light fading into the skin around his temple.

She stared at him for a moment longer until his face finally relaxed. She hoped that a bit of her power helped ease his mind and gave him a peaceful night’s sleep. Satisfied, she walked back out into the living room and curled up in the armchair. It was only for the night. She would wake before he ever got up, and she would retreat somewhere else. The roof probably. But for right now, she’d take solace in the fact that he was safe for the night. She curled up tightly and fell asleep.


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next part. Thank you to everyone who has been reading!

The first thing that Rowan noticed when he woke was that it was dark.

He slowly took in his surroundings, noting that he was back in his bedroom and had been asleep face down in his bed. He furrowed his brow, puzzled as to how he got there. And how much time had passed. He distinctly remembered that it was light outside when he stormed out of his apartment in a fury, but it seemed that the sun had set hours ago. The time between then and now was a blur, but he definitely remembered arriving at the same pub he had the night before.

Which brought him to the next thing that he noticed. For all of the alcohol he had to have consumed to lose swaths of time, he did not feel the least bit hungover.

In fact, he physically felt better than he had in days. Weeks even. The constant throbbing in his head had all but disappeared. The weariness that he felt day in and day out seemed non-existent. His whole body felt relaxed and rested in a way that he hadn’t experienced in a long while. Definitely not since Lyria. Or maybe ever. The thought unsettled him.

Pushing it out of his mind, Rowan glanced over at the clock on his nightstand. The bright green numbers indicated that it was a bit past midnight. He sighed, knowing that he wasted another entire day drinking and sleeping, but the events of the morning had burned through him so thoroughly that he couldn’t bring himself to hate the distraction the alcohol provided him.

A guardian angel visited him—an actual, real-life guardian angel.

He didn’t know what to do with that information. Part of him was still trying to wrap his mind around the absurdity of it all. He never fully believed in a higher power, especially not after everything. But after that morning, he could no longer refute its existence. The proof had been sleeping in his living room. He touched her, spoke to her, watched her fly around his apartment, and felt that power of hers press in on him during the height of their argument. She was very much real.

And he had unceremoniously thrown her out of his apartment.

Rowan felt a slight twinge of guilt at his behavior, but it quickly dissipated as grief once got him in a chokehold. Everything about the interaction with her left him raw. He didn’t deserve grace or guidance, not from an angel. Lyria did. She deserved everything in the world, and these angels did not save her. And for them to show up now, when he was at his absolute worst…

His dive into the abyss of despair was interrupted by the unpleasant rumbling from his stomach. He noted, bitterly, that it wasn’t from the copious amounts of alcohol he consumed, but rather hunger. When was the last time he’d eaten? He couldn’t remember when he last felt hungry, but due to his current relaxed state, it seemed his body found it fit to remind him.

He didn’t bother to turn on the lights as he walked to his kitchen. Shopping for food remained elusive, but he thought he might have some bread or a snack somewhere. He bent over to open the fridge when a soft glow caught his eye. Turning towards the light, he drew in a sharp gasp as he noted that the angel – Aelin – was again sleeping in his chair.

As quietly as he could, he shuffled towards her. Kneeling a few feet away, he studied her figure intently. Her lithe frame took up most of the space, with her legs pulled in tight against her. It seemed unlikely that she was comfortable, that chair designed for someone much shorter than either of them. He had half a mind to wake her again, but their fight that morning was still too fresh. She had come back against his wishes, and even though she told him she would, he still felt angry at her presence. But he would not disturb her sleep if only to keep her from looking at him with that sorrow that seemed to cloud her eyes that morning. Instead, he studied her silently.

He took in the features that he overlooked earlier. The long blonde hair that draped over her shoulders and back, now mussed slightly from sleep, the small, upturned nose, her full mouth, and a small smattering of freckles that dusted across her face. She was wearing a short, sleeveless dress that seemed to be crafted from some shimmering material that sparkled in the dim lighting. That ethereal glow that radiated off her had dimmed in the night, but it was no less brilliant than it had been that morning. Those massive wings bursting from her back folded around her like a feathered cocoon, ruffling slightly with each breath that she took.

_She was beautiful._

The thought came to him unbidden, surprising him. He immediately quashed it down, turning his head from the magnificent creature before him, as if in shame. Of course, she was beautiful. He didn’t think it was likely that angels would ever be considered homely. But, thinking of her beauty felt like a betrayal to Lyria’s memory.

Lyria had been the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was all life and spirit, coaxing him out of the darkness. She was warm and kind, the complete opposite of his cold and brooding nature. It was impossible not to love her. And he had until she was brutally ripped from his life.

Hunger forgotten, he rose to his feet and padded silently to his bedroom. The day was entirely shot. He didn’t want to spend any more time awake and wallowing. He quickly changed into his pajamas and flopped unceremoniously in his bed. Despite the relaxation his body felt, sleep seemed elusive. He closed his eyes tight and willed himself to fall deep into slumber. As he felt himself drift off, he swore he saw a flash of light and heard a booming of wings. A flowery citrus scent tinged with a hint of ash washed over him before sleep claimed him once again.

When he awoke the next morning, Aelin was gone.

\---

Aelin was bored.

Not that it was surprising to her. She was usually bored when she came on assignments. But at least, most of the jobs she had been on lately involved humans who were a bit more active. She delighted herself with watching them fuss over their daily routines. With Rowan…well, she wasn’t sure what she needed to do with him.

It had been dark when she woke. She hadn’t meant to sleep for so long, but the day weighed heavily on her. She checked on him briefly before she left. He changed clothes, so she knew that he must have woken up at some point. Seeing as he didn’t wake her again, he either remained ignorant of her presence in his home or just didn’t care. Regardless, she wanted to leave before he stirred again. She didn’t want to face him again after everything that happened. She needed to figure out her game plan.

So she vanished and ended back up on the roof. _Not running away_ , she told herself. But it certainly felt like it.

The sun slowly climbed its way across the sky. She laid on the warm stone of the roof, listlessly watching cloud drift by overhead. Rowan had yet to make an appearance since the last time she saw him. Most humans would have places to go and things to do. She would follow them along, ensuring that everything went according to plan, and they would come home. All except Rowan. It seemed that he was perfectly content holed up in his apartment all day. It was driving her mad.

Aelin heaved a sigh and rolled off her back. It wouldn’t hurt to check on him. He may not have wanted her there, but she still needed to do her job. She would just pop down for a brief look to make sure he was okay.

Within seconds her wings lifted her above the ground, and she flew down to be level with his apartment. Those large windows he had were useful for many things, but she didn’t think he intended them for spying. Ducking around the corner, she peeked her head towards the glass to make sure that he didn’t see her. Perhaps it made her a coward for not wanting to face him just yet, but she had no desire to relive her previous interaction with him.

Her eyes scanned over the apartment, and nothing seemed out of place from the last time she was there. Rowan was sitting at a desk with his head buried in his hands, one of those computing devices open to a blank, white space in front of him. His bright silver hair was utterly disheveled as if he spent all morning running his hands through it. He hadn’t bothered changing out of his nightclothes, and they hung loosely off his broad frame, wrinkled from sleep.

Even with the glass between them, she could feel his anguish. It was as palpable as it had been the day before when she felt it deep underneath the layers of anger. It shone brightly through his pine-green eyes when she looked at him on her way out the door. So much that it caused the words to stick in her throat. So much that the need to comfort him nearly overwhelmed her. She felt that need surge through her again as she placed her hand on the pane of glass before her.

It had been millennia since she felt anything like that.

As quickly as she felt it, she buried it deep inside her. It was a useless emotion that would lead to nothing but trouble. The Tribunal ensured that interference beyond what she was tasked with was met with swift and brutal punishment. Comfort was not part of that equation, no matter how much she wanted to help. She needed to ensure that everything stayed on track and couldn’t get involved beyond what was necessary to do her job even if it broke her soul to let it happen.

So she simply watched as Rowan was swallowed whole by his grief.

It may have been minutes or hours she watched him, but eventually, he pushed away from the desk and stomped towards his bedroom. She waited at the window until he reappeared, this time wearing a different set of clothes. He grabbed his keys and made his way out the door. She felt that tug that let her know that he was on the move, so she turned her head to watch for him on the street below. She glanced back at the apartment and noticed that there were some dark markings on the computer screen.

She knew she didn’t have long before she needed to move, but curiosity got the better of her. She vanished briefly and reappeared in his living room. Careful not to move or touch anything, she walked towards the desk to see what he had written. She felt the tug at her ribs pull taut with each step, knowing that he was getting further away from her the longer she tarried. But she felt rooted in her spot as she took in the words on display in front of her.

_I’m sorry._


	5. Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to next chapter! I appreciate everyone who has left comments and kudos for this work. I have loved every bit of writing this so far, and I'm glad that you all are enjoying it as well. Without further ado, here it is!

Aelin’s wings beat furiously at her sides as she tore down the street. Scanning over the crowd below, she cursed when she could not see Rowan anywhere. She dawdled too long in his apartment, and now she had no idea where he went. The invisible bond that connected them drew uncomfortably tight around her middle, and she groaned as a flash of white-hot pain lanced down her spine. She needed to find him and fast.

Aelin flew anxiously in the direction of the pub, hoping that he just walked over for another day of getting hopelessly drunk. She continued to search her path, hoping to find that striking silver hair that stood out amongst the sea of blacks, browns, reds, and blondes, but came up empty. When she arrived at the pub, she dived towards the entrance, breathless and panting, as she peered through the large windows at the front.

Rowan was not there.

Cursing, Aelin launched herself back in the air, bobbling slightly as the pain around her middle continued to grip her. She focused on driving down the discomfort, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. She had never felt anything like this before. She thought she might be dying. _Maybe she was._ It felt as if someone was pulling her insides out inch by agonizing inch. She did not know that the distance between her and Rowan would have such a profound effect on her.

Aelin paused briefly as the thought settled in her mind. Why _hadn’t_ she known? She knew that she was bound to Rowan until her mission was complete, but the Tribunal had never told her what would happen if she didn’t stay around him. Possible that it didn’t seem necessary since she never had to deal with a rogue human before. But the whole situation with Rowan was supposed to be impossible. It wasn’t supposed to be happening. But she couldn’t deny the genuine pain she was experiencing right now. And she couldn’t deny the fact that the Tribunal hadn’t thought to warn her, even after the millennia she had been serving them.

She wondered, nervously, if that was the point.

A sharp cry broke unbidden from her lips as agony slashed down her spine again. She tumbled from the sky as her body folded in involuntarily on itself. Her breath came in short pants as she willed the blinding pain to recede, her eyes screwed up tightly. She righted herself a few feet from the ground, gasping as her stomach shot to her throat. Her body hung limply between the wings that barely kept her aloft. Dark spots swam in front of her eyes as she tried to regain control over her body.

Panic took hold of her. _She needed to find Rowan_. _Now._

Aelin turned herself inward, instinctively grasping for that tether between them. She had no idea how it worked beyond keeping her bound to her ward. She didn’t even know if it could be used to find him. But she had to try. She didn’t know how much longer she could last like this. Darkness crept in around her vision, and her whole body felt like it was on fire. She shuddered to think what would happen if she couldn’t get to him soon.

Quickly she found the chain that bound her to Rowan. As soon as she grabbed hold, a golden line appeared from her middle, barely visible in the daylight. There was a moment of surprise, but it quickly vanished as she yanked on it fiercely, hoping it would give her some direction as to where he might be.

_There._ Their connection led her to the east, away from the pub. With as far away as he seemed, it was likely that he took a car. It would certainly explain how he pulled away from her so quickly. But that didn’t matter now. The only thing that mattered was getting to him quickly. Steeling herself against the agony coursing through her body, she took off, letting that glowing light guide her to him.

\---

Aelin spotted a familiar swath of silver in a cemetery on the outskirts of the city.

She hadn’t flown long, the bond providing her with a direct line to him. Her entire body ached from the ordeal, but she was no longer overcome with pain. It seemed the closer she got to him, the more that vice-like grip lessened its hold on her. She filed the knowledge she discovered away in case she ever needed it. She hoped that she would never have to use it again.

She was sure that it was a punishment. Something that the Tribunal had cooked up to keep them in line. A reminder to do her duty, no matter what, because the alternative was an excruciating death. The Tribunal was known for exacting swift and merciless judgment against those who defied them. She knew that if she had stayed near the pub and had not sought Rowan out, she would have succumbed to the inky darkness that had swiftly crowded her vision. The thought of that overwhelming pain and the death looming nearby terrified her.

Aelin pushed those horrifying thoughts from her mind and glided over to where Rowan sat in front of a grave, his head low. His wishes and her discomfort be damned, but she could not stay away from him any longer. She knew he would be angry, but she wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ , face that pain again. No, she was going to do her job the way that she knew how, and he was just going to have to deal with her presence. There was no other alternative.

She landed silently on the ground as she took in Rowan’s face entirely. His deep viridian eyes were clouded over in that same sorrow she had only glimpsed at in his apartment, his full mouth downturned in a pronounced frown as he stared blankly ahead at the headstone in front of him. She noted that his body shook slightly as if he were desperately trying to rein in his emotions before they spilled out uncontrollably into the world. His grief radiated off him in palpable waves that choked her viciously. The sight of him shrouded in this grief made her heart ache profusely.

She didn’t know Rowan beyond the brief biography provided to her when she was assigned to him. And he certainly hadn’t made it any easier for her to get to know him. But she didn’t know what caused him so much pain that it hung over him like a perpetual cloud that threatened to swallow him whole. Aelin _hated_ that she would have to add to his burden. He was obviously dealing with enough. But she could no longer leave him alone, despite how much they both wished it.

As if sensing her presence, Rowan looked up from the grave and locked eyes with her. The anguish on his face melted away in anger once more. She felt the hackles on the back of her neck rise as he approached her, ready for the inevitable fight that seconds away from exploding onto the scene. She felt her power surging through her, but she leashed it quickly, not wanting to hurt him accidentally.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Rowan all but growled at her. Those eyes of his, clear now, sparkled with barely contained fury. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She knew she shouldn’t be angry at him. But she couldn’t help the ire that bit at the back of her throat like acid at his remarks. It seemed that their bond was only one-sided, where only she would suffer any ill effects of their separation. He obviously had no idea the utter _hell_ she went through to find him.

“I told you, Rowan Whitethorn. I am bound to you. I must follow wherever you go,” she gritted out. Aelin tried to calm herself down, knowing that her anger would only serve to incense the man more.

“And I told _you_ that I don’t fucking care. I don’t want or need your help.” Rowan glowered menacingly at her as if he might physically retaliate if she refused to back down.

“I guess it’s too bad for you then,” she snarked. “Because I am not going anywhere. You are as stuck with me as I am with you, so you better get used to it.”

Aelin cringed internally at the words she spat at him. This conversation was not working out the way she wanted. She knew she needed to rein in her mouth before things got carried away. She worked to relax her demeanor and approached Rowan as if he were a timid animal that would disappear at the first sign of trouble. Aelin watched as Rowan’s fists clenched at her approach. She almost wanted him to take a swing at her, if only so he could get the resentment he seemed to have for her out of his system.

“I don’t have to get used to anything. I want you to leave me alone,” Rowan ground out.

“I can’t do that,” Aelin said simply, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“I don’t fucking care what you can or can’t do!” Rowan was shouting now, his voice echoing in the silence of the graveyard surrounding them. Aelin flinched away from him, her eyes going wide. Rowan just continued in a whirlwind of rage and pain.

“I don’t fucking care about your mission. I don’t fucking care about your help. I don’t fucking care about _you_ or anything you have to do. _Just leave me the fuck alone_!” Aelin felt some part of her crumple with his shouted words. Rowan turned to walk away from her, and she reached out to stop him. She needed him to stop. Her hand barely grazed his shoulder before he jerked roughly out of her touch and continued to storm off.

“Rowan,” she started, pleadingly. Rowan just kept walking away from her. She felt the bond begin to pull tight with each step he took away from her. Panic started to rise in her throat, her breath coming out in short pants as she focused on pushing back the fear that crept into her mind at the thought of him getting too far out of her reach again.

“Rowan, I _know_ you don’t want me here, but I _have_ to do this. I have to be here. If I stay away, if I leave you alone, it will kill me. Actually kill me. So I can’t leave.” The words felt like poison on her tongue. She didn’t want to use her situation as a bargaining tool, but she needed him to understand what giving him what he wanted would entail. She didn’t want to force herself on him, adding to his already burdened life, but she wouldn’t kill herself to spare him either.

Rowan paused at her declaration, and Aelin felt the air tense around them. He turned back to look at her, his face cold and unfeeling. The world around them slowed as she waited for him to say something, but she was wholly unprepared for when he did.

“I don’t fucking care.”

The words left his mouth like ice lancing into her soul. Aelin felt like she had been slapped. Rowan turned back around and walked towards the cemetery entrance, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders tense. She could barely control the panic she felt as she watched him leave, knowing that she would still have to follow him. But those frozen words echoed in her head and tore at her relentlessly.

Like the coward she was, she waited until he passed the line of trees at the edge of the cemetery before shooting up into the sky.


	6. Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! I am so excited to see the response this story has received. I love reading the comments and seeing the kudos. Thank you so much for all of the support. Here's the next part! I hope you enjoy.

Rowan could feel her gaze boring into the back of his head.

He lifted the glass of amber liquid in front of him in a silent salute to the bartender who so kindly kept it filled for him. He poured the contents down his throat, allowing the burn of the drink to settle something deep within him before signaling for another. It dulled his mind, and the world swam in front of his eyes, the edges blurred and hazy. But despite his drunken attempts to forget it all, he still felt the weight of that gaze at his back. He knew he would see a golden woman with turquoise eyes bright with flame staring somberly back at him if he only turned and looked.

The thought forced him to drain the contents of his glass once again.

He foolishly thought that the lack of the angel’s presence earlier in the day meant that she might leave him alone for good. But he remembered her parting words the day before – that she would give him a moment to collect himself, but she would come back. And come back she did, right when he decided to pay a visit to Lyria’s grave.

Rowan already spent most of the morning stewing in his guilt and resentment for getting disgustingly drunk for the past two days. Lyria always thought it was his worst vice, the drinking, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was insulting her memory by using it as a crutch now. He tried to distract himself by writing, but it seemed that the block was still firmly in place. In the silence of his apartment, his mind had drifted back to Lyria, as it often did when he was left alone to his thoughts. But even his memories of Lyria had been tinged with a golden light, not unlike the one that emanated from the being at the back of the bar. And he _hated_ it.

He hated himself more for letting things get so bad that the universe itself felt that he needed an intervention. His self-destructive behavior had taken root, interrupting every facet of his life over the past year. But the angel provided a much more convenient target for his anger, and being angry at her meant that he didn’t have to spend too much time dwelling on why everything had gone to shit.

The shot of whiskey burned the back of his throat. He signaled for another.

Rowan hadn’t expected her at the cemetery. He left his apartment with one plan in mind, unconcerned for whether or not she would follow. He should have expected that she would. She was a guardian angel. _His_ guardian angel. And she had told him more than once now that she was bound to him. He wanted to be alone as he sought solace from Lyria’s grave, but she had turned up anyway. And he had taken one look at that face of her, that beautiful, perfect face lined in such sadness and _understanding_ that it rocked him to his core. And he lost it.

He yelled at her. Even as she begged him to let her stay, even as she pleaded with him with her life in the balance, he sliced into her with words that would be his damnation.

_I don’t fucking care._

Rowan emptied his glass once again. The bartender hesitated when he motioned for a refill, but Rowan schooled his features into that grimace that seemed to be perpetually etched on his face nowadays. His glass was promptly filled again, and he knocked it back, relishing the fire that coursed its way into his gut. It burned and burned inside of him, providing a convenient distraction from those eyes that remained fastidiously trained on him. But he knew that there was no amount of alcohol alive to burn away the guilt.

\---

His vision was nothing more than a blur of light and color. The room spun wildly everywhere he tried to focus, and he could feel an awful mix of acid and alcohol churning away in his stomach. He rested his head on the cold surface in front of him, his eyes screwed up tightly, praying to whatever god would hear him that he would not be sick.

He stopped counting after the seventh or eighth shot. It was about the same time that the bartender became more of an amorphous blob than a person, and the bar appeared to liquefy in front of his eyes. He swam through the lights and sounds as he took shot after shot, trying to drown out the raging inferno of guilt inside of him. The longer he sat at the bar, the more it writhed inside of him, threatening to consume him whole.

And that insufferable angel was still sitting there staring at him. Just as she had been the whole time he drowned himself in liquor.

When an inky blackness started creeping in around the edges of his vision, he knew it was past time to go. It took a monumental effort to push himself off the counter and his seat. He took two steps and stumbled, unsure of where the ground was. It seemed both too close and a million miles away. He gripped the bar to maintain his balance and focused on putting on foot in front of the other. His whole world swam in front of his eyes, and he knew it would not be much longer before he succumbed to that black relief creeping on him. He only hoped that he made it home before he passed out. It would be his luck that he would end up blacked out in an alley.

He took a few more steps, discovered that he ran out of his support. He gingerly stepped toward the door; all of his concentration focused on not falling. He breathed a sigh of relief when his hand met the cool glass of the exit. He pushed forward and slipped out the door into the sidewalk in front of the bar, crashing into someone.

“Fucking drunk.”

A rough voice snarled at him. A man by the sound of it, and while he had no idea who it was, his words struck a chord deep within himself. A drunk. That’s what he had become since Lyria died - a good for nothing alcoholic with zero to show for the past year except a never-ending pile of liquor bottles and an overwhelming mountain of guilt. Lyria would be so disappointed in him if she could see him now. But she was dead, and he was left with his stupid, worthless life.

The thought choked him, and he felt a stinging sensation at the corner of his eyes as he stumbled ungracefully down the street. He could hear the words of others around him, disparaging comments about him that struck like barbed arrows all over his body, each one more piercing than the last. It was nothing more than he deserved for tarnishing Lyria’s memory the way that he had. And he deserved even more because there was a literal angel sent to help him, and he told her he _didn’t fucking care_ if she died.

No, there was no penance enough that allowed him to atone for his sins.

His hand scraped against the buildings as he struggled to walk just a few feet. That inky blackness was closing in around him, but he just needed to get home before he lost consciousness. His legs wobbled precariously, and he slumped into the hard brick of the building next to him. There was a sharp, stinging pain in his shoulder, but he paid it no heed as his eyes drooped closed.

A warm hand brushed against his arm, and he jerked slightly under the touch. When he opened his eyes, everything around him was distorted, but he could make out a faint light as that hand wrapped around his palm. There was such warmth in that touch that his knees buckled, and he felt himself falling towards the ground. Slender but strong arms lifted him, and he was folded into a solid chest. Within moments, he felt like he was flying, and those strong arms did not falter as they held him close. He swore he could hear the sounds of wings beating around him. The darkness that was quietly looming at the edges of his vision came swooping in to claim him at last as he fell deep into a slumber tinged by a bright sheen of gold.

\---

Aelin had no idea what she was doing.

She beat her wings hard and fast as she soared towards his apartment, his body limp in her arms. She was grateful that it was nearly dark outside, that perhaps people would not look too closely at an unconscious man that seemed to be flying on his own accord. But she saw him fall, and she knew that she needed to get him out of there before he ended up hurting himself more than he had.

She followed him the second he left the graveyard. High above his head where he could not see her, but she remained close enough that she could swoop in and help if necessary. He took another car back towards town, but she wasn’t surprised to see that the car dropped him off at the front door of that pub. He had been drunk the first night, and then drunk again the next, so it seemed only right that he decided to drink again for the third.

She recognized the vice. Many of her humans in the past had suffered from the same. It made her assignments all the more difficult because she now had to manage someone who became erratic and unpredictable. But where they had delighted in consuming, Rowan seemed intently focused on killing himself slowly. So she ducked into the bar and kept a watchful eye on him from the back.

His shoulders remained tense as he downed glass after glass of that amber-colored drink until they weren’t anymore. Until he was barely able to keep himself sitting up at the bar. She watched him stumble out the door. She watched him fall into the street. She followed him while he tried unsuccessfully to walk towards his apartment. And she heard every cruel thing that people whispered to him when he passed them.

But she kept her distance, even though she watched his shoulders slump with each vicious barb sent towards him. She could feel the utter defeat that poured off him, and despite everything that had happened earlier in the day, she still felt an undeniable pull to help him. So when he fell into the building, and she heard him grunt in pain, she knew she had to act.

And now she was carrying this hulking brute of a man in her arms while she flew.

He wasn’t heavy, not to her. She was an angel. She could bear his weight twice over and not break a sweat. But she could feel the weight of the burden bearing down on him as if it were an anvil tied to her legs. What surprised her was that it was a familiar weight that she understood all too well.

There was a grief that he held that she _knew_ intimately. She looked at him and saw herself reflected in his eyes. He was a mirror to her soul that dredged up memories that she carefully kept under lock and key. She wanted to hate him for it, to burn those memories away before she faced those ghosts from her past. Instead, it felt like a missing piece of her soul slid back into place. And she wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information.

Aelin’s thoughts were disrupted when Rowan’s apartment came into view. She landed silently on the balcony, the window opening with a brief thought. She carried him inside and laid him on his bed. Just as she did the day before, she let her hand brush over his temple as a warm caress of light spilled from her fingertips. It vanished quickly into his skin, and she watched as his face relaxed, and his breathing evened out. At least he wouldn’t wake up feeling like death.

She took a moment to study him. She knew he was handsome the first time she saw that portrait she received when they assigned him to her. But that picture didn’t do him justice, not really. His face was harsh, but she saw a softness there that only came out in his sleep, it seemed. It made him appear younger, happier. She knew that his eyes were green, but she hadn’t expected them to be the same shade as the massive pines back in Terrasen…

_Terrasen._

The name flashed through her, and she tensed immediately. It had been centuries since she had last thought of that place, _of home_. And now, the memories coursed through her, and she was unexpectedly caught in their current. She remembered sitting out in that massive forest of pines, breathing in the scent of their sap mixed with the snow that drifted down from the mountains. She remembered sunny days and cold nights. Warm, rough hands that held her close. A head of brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes. _Love._

Aelin quickly tamped down on those memories as a sob tore its way from her throat. She didn’t remember when she started crying, but she wiped furiously at her cheeks to rid her face of the hot sting of her tears. It did her no good thinking about those things because Terrasen was gone. Obliterated. That forest burned to ashes, the mountains razed to the ground. And those beautiful eyes were never going to look at her again. The Tribunal made sure of that.

And despite everything, despite the reckoning she would undoubtedly receive from the Tribunal for going against her duties, Aelin glanced down at Rowan and made a silent vow to help him. She was not able to save those she loved, but she could save him. No matter what happened to him in the past, no matter how he treated her, he did not deserve the fate he received. And she refused to play her part in that fate any longer.

She would help this man with eyes the color of the home that she loved so fiercely, no matter what became of her.


	7. Part 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I apologize that this has taken such a long while for me to get out. I had a difficult time getting the words out, and school/work kept getting in the way. Thanks again to everyone who has read this and let comments and kudos. You all mean the world to me. Here is the next chapter!

Aelin hadn’t moved from her spot next to Rowan’s bed. She didn’t know how much time had passed while she remained caught in her thoughts. But the sun was now dipping beyond the edge of the world, casting the room in a gilded orange hue. Rowan was sleeping peacefully, and she could only hope that the bit of magic she gave him eased any ill effects that plagued his body. For now, it seemed, he would be okay by himself.

She pushed herself from the floor and walked back into the living room. The large windows beckoned her, and she stood before them, taking in the full expanse of the city below her in the fading light of day. The buildings seemed to burn with golden fire in the setting sun, and a familiar ache burrowed its way back into her chest. But she would not dwell on it now. Instead, she renewed her resolve to not give an inch of space to any of those feelings and memories and focus her energy on helping Rowan until it was time for her to leave this plane.

The problem, Aelin realized, was that she had no idea how to help Rowan.

She knew next to nothing about him. The Tribunal didn’t supply much beyond the basics when she took the assignment. And from her limited interactions with him, she wasn’t able to glean much beyond the fact that he practically despised her and her presence drove him to drink. Not exactly the best start for whatever relationship they had.

And honestly, she wasn’t even sure if he would accept her help. He hadn’t been too keen on talking to her, even less so about having her in his space. Usually, she would stay with her ward and make sure she remained out of the way while they were at home. But while she knew that she couldn’t stay too far away from him, it was entirely different staying around him all the time. The apartment was small. If their previous interactions were any indication, it would only be a matter of time before the space bore witness to another volatile disagreement between the two of them.

That was another issue entirely. Aelin had no idea as to how to interact with Rowan. She kept to herself, even amongst her own kind. And it wasn’t like she had any other opportunities over the last 3000 years to converse with humans, so it really shouldn’t have been surprising that she would mess up her first attempt. But even still, she had utterly ruined it. Things could not have gone more poorly than if she had actively tried to mess everything up. And she hadn’t, not really.

She could stay on the roof if things became unbearable between them again. Even though she did not experience things the same way as humans did when caught out in the elements, she still hated the feeling of being so exposed. The rain still fell and soaked her through, and the wind still blew cold despite the protections she placed on her person. She had been selfishly looking forward to staying in his home. It was warm and dry, and while he had little in the way of furniture, it was comfortable enough for her to sleep on, which is more than she could ask of him.

But she would go if he needed her too. She would find a way to make it work. Right now, though, she would take what she could get, especially knowing what she faced when she returned home.

It would be naïve to think that the Tribunal wouldn’t become aware of what she was doing. They always seemed to sniff out any hint of wrongdoing amongst her kind. She was bound by ancient laws and customs to do things a certain way. And while she had bent the rules in the past, helping Rowan went beyond that. She was supposed to guide him, yes, but actual interference was strictly forbidden.

But it was all shot to hell anyway. Aelin still didn’t know why he could see her. And she would be willing to bet that the Tribunal would find out about it regardless, no matter how hard she tried to conceal the truth. She could only imagine the utter hell that awaited her when they did. So she supposed it didn’t really matter if she helped Rowan. She was already fated to meet judgment for something entirely beyond her control; she might as well do something that was within her control.

The sound of soft footfalls on the floor behind alerted Aelin that she was no longer alone. She didn’t bother to turn and continued to stare at the buildings in front of her that were slowly draped in darkness. A small click sounded behind her, and light flooded the room, casting her reflection on the glass. She could also see the dark outline of Rowan standing behind her, and her body went still.

There was a beat of silence where she felt like she should say something, but her mouth remained shut. The air was thick and tense around them, and Aelin felt herself collapsing inward, the stress of the day finally catching up with her. She felt exhausted, and she wasn’t in the mood to fight with Rowan anymore. She prepared to banish herself to the roof when Rowan’s voice cut through the empty space between them.

“So I suppose I have you to thank for getting me home in one piece.”

Aelin tensed the sound of his voice, rough and curt, but she noted that it did not contain any of the bite that she quickly associated with him. She didn’t trust herself to speak, caught off guard by the lack of ire, but still did not wish to face him. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder at him and nodded silently.

“Why did you do it?”

Shocked by the question, Aelin turned to face Rowan fully. The silence stretched thin over the space between them as she took in his disheveled appearance. His hair was mussed from sleep, and his clothes draped unevenly on his broad frame. There was an impression down the side of his face, likely from the pillow or blanket he used while he slept. He stared at her, those pine green eyes boring into her.

She knew she didn’t have to answer him. She didn’t owe him that, or anything really, not after the way he had treated her. But for the first time since she arrived, those eyes weren’t narrowed at her in anger or clouded in grief. They were bright and clear as if the bit of magic wiped away she gave him didn’t just rid him of the repercussions of his actions that afternoon, but the heartbreaking stain of everything that plagued him. Even so, she couldn’t let him know about the decision she made. It was better for both of them if he remained in the dark. 

“It is my duty.”

Even to her, the words sounded harsh and unfeeling. She fought off a cringe and hoped that Rowan didn’t notice them for the lie that they were. It _was_ her duty to guide him; it was not her duty to fly him home. Or cure him with her magic. Or really any of the things that had occurred between them over the last three days.

“Well, your duty here is done now. No need to hang around.” Rowan’s words were harsh, that neutral expression morphing into something akin to anger, but not quite. Aelin’s eyes narrowed at the dismissal but kept her retort behind her lips. She anticipated the rejection, but it still stung a bit that after everything, he couldn’t stomach being around her. But she had resolved to help him, and if this helped him, then she would do it, even if it meant spending a night outside.

“If you need anything,” Aelin said, “I’ll be on the roof.” And with a curt nod, she vanished in a bright flash of light.

\---

Rowan sighed and stared at the spot where the angel disappeared. He knew he was unfair. By some cosmic force, she was there to help him, and she had. He was lucky that he didn’t wake up in a ditch after his drinking binge earlier. And had been the second day in a row that he managed to wind up at home after drinking himself to death. He started to wonder if the angel was a glutton for punishment. She had to be if she was dealing with his drunk, morose ass all the time.

But she didn’t have to, he realized. He could stop punishing her for something she had no part in at any time. He had been nothing but cruel to her since she had arrived, even going so far as to imply that he wished that she was dead. Logically, he knew it wasn’t the angel’s fault that Lyria died, but he seemed content to punish her anyway. And she didn’t deserve it.

Despite everything, she had shown nothing but a willingness to help him. And perhaps that was because of her duty, but it didn’t matter. He yelled at her, cursed at her, told her that he didn’t care that she died, and she still got him home safely when he drank himself into oblivion and ensured that he didn’t wake up feeling like hell afterward. She followed him to make sure that nothing terrible happened to him. And he spat all over it because he was so wrapped up in himself that he couldn’t possibly fathom that anyone would want to help him after what he had done.

He needed to apologize for his behavior, but he doubted that she would want to see him now that he had unceremoniously kicked her out of his apartment yet again. He wasn’t quite ready to face her again, either. But it didn’t quite sit well with him that she had exiled herself to his roof. She shouldn’t have to suffer anymore because of him.

Before he could think any more on it, Rowan pushed open the window in his living room and climbed out onto the fire escape that ran next to his apartment. A brisk wind howled through the stairs, shaking them precariously against the building while goosebumps broke out all over his arms. He pulled himself up the ladder, stepping over the ledge when he arrived at the roof. The safety lights provided some light, and Rowan glanced around the area for that unearthly glow that he had come to associate with the angel. But he could find nothing.

He made his way around the roof, looking around vents and small electrical structures, when he saw a faint light emanating from behind the stairwell that led back down to the apartments below. Peeking his head around the corner, he saw the angel huddled up next to the building, a small fire in her hands.

His eyes widened at the sight. He figured he had some kind of power after that display the first day she arrived, but seeing it was something wholly different. The bright flames danced on her fingertips, a wide array of reds, oranges, yellows, and blues. Rowan could see the slight shiver in her wings, knowing that even though there was a bit of warmth, she was still cold.

A pang of guilt went through him. He did this. He kicked her out of the apartment, and she felt it was necessary to stay out in the cold, warming herself with a small fire of her own making. She had no blankets, no coat. The dress she was wearing had no sleeves and seemed too thin to brave the outside world. But she had gone without complaint and was willing to stay out here to spare him his feelings.

He truly was an ass.

Rowan cleared his throat, and instantly, the angel was on her feet, the fire winking out into nothingness. She eyed him warily as if she didn’t trust whatever it was that he was going to do. And honestly, he didn’t even trust himself at the moment. He didn’t think through coming up here; he just came. And now that he was here, he realized he neglected to think through the second part of his plan.

There was a long measure of silence between the two of them, and Rowan ducked his head sheepishly at her burning gaze. She folded her arms in front of her chest – to protect herself from the wind or him, he didn’t know. He stared at the ground for a moment before finally mustering up the courage to speak.

“I…uh…I’m getting some food for dinner. Do you want anything?”

The angel cocked her head curiously to one side, her gaze softening a bit in his direction. Rowan ran his hand across the back of his neck, a nervous tick he’d had since he was young. He felt uneasy, wondering if the angel would say no if she would smite him with the fire that she held in her hands just moments ago for all that he had done to her. But instead, she just stood there and stared.

Moments passed in tense quiet, and Rowan had just about given up when the angel spoke.

“I have been feeling a bit peckish lately.”

Her voice was quiet, almost disbelieving that he had extended the invitation towards her. He didn’t blame her at all, knowing that the reason for this timidness was all his doing.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m getting cold. Let’s get inside.” Rowan turned to walk back towards the fire escape when a warm hand grasped his. He turned around to look at the angel – Aelin, he believed was her name – and was met with those bright turquoise eyes that seemed to glow in the night. The corner of her mouth ticked up just slightly, and he was surprised when he felt his mouth do the same, almost involuntarily.

He hadn’t smiled, even involuntarily, since Lyria died. And while he knew that things were far from okay with Aelin being around, that small bit gave him something that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.


	8. Part 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I know it has been a long while since I’ve updated, but I’ve spent most of the weekend hashing this out. School is over and I graduated, so I have nothing on my plate except work stuff, which definitely does not eat up my free time as much as school does. I’m hoping this means that I get to be on a more consistent posting schedule. Yay!
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking through with me. I appreciate all of the love I have received for this fic from you all. <3

Rowan expected Aelin to vanish the moment they decided to go inside. Or even fly down ahead of him. So he was surprised when she scrambled down the fire escape behind him, her large wings brushing against the cold metal. Night had fully set in, and the breeze from earlier had cooled significantly. He saw the telltale shudders that passed through her, the fluttering feathers that shivered in air, and pushed down the pangs of guilt that threatened to consume him if he gave them any leniency.

They made it to his landing in silence, and he ushered her into his living room. He was immediately met with the warmth of his apartment and shivered at the sharp contrast in temperatures. He heard Aelin sigh in relief, and he felt something loosen in his chest, knowing that at least she was out of the cold, even if the whole situation was strange and uncomfortable.

Aelin said nothing to him, despite shivering in his apartment, running her hands quickly up and down her arms to combat the goosebumps raised on her skin. He would be a fool to think that he didn't owe her an apology at the very least for everything that transpired over the last few days, especially for her current state. He wasn't sure how the weather affected angels, but the sight of her shivering next to a building with nothing but that tiny fire in her hands to ward off the chill of the night wasn't one he would soon forget. Nor would he forget the guilt that ate away at him knowing he was the reason she was up there in the first place.

Pushing the guilt away, he remembered that he had invited her in for dinner. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. His days recently had been filled with nothing but self-loathing and blackout drunkenness, and he still hadn't picked up anything. Takeout would have to do for the evening, and he made a mental note to find his way to a grocery store tomorrow.

But first, he needed to take care of the cold angel in his living room. It was the least that he could do.

He cleared his throat, and Aelin jumped slightly at the noise in the silence. She turned towards him with wide, confused eyes, and that damned hand of his immediately went to the back of his neck like a magnet. Gods, this was awkward. He didn't know what to do, but getting her warm was probably not a bad place to start.

"Um… You're free to use the shower if you want. You know, to warm up." He was going to rub the skin on his neck raw if he continued to be so fucking inept at talking to her.

Aelin nodded but frowned slightly. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body and looked up at him with soft, pleading eyes. And without her speaking a word, he realized exactly what the issue was. She didn't have anything else to wear.

Gods, he really was an asshole of the highest order.

"Follow me," he said tersely. He was so angry with himself. He had been so selfish, so short-sighted. And she had paid the consequences for his actions. He stalked towards his bedroom, and thankfully, he heard her soft footfalls behind him. Aelin stood in the doorway while he pulled open a drawer on his dresser and fished out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants for her to wear. He thrust them into her empty hands and walked across the hall to the bathroom.

Aelin followed him tentatively, but she still didn't say anything. She clutched the borrowed clothes like a lifeline as he dug out an extra towel from his cabinet and placed it on the counter for her. When he turned to face her fully, his stern scowl softened at her bewildered expression.

"Sorry. I'll leave you to it and go start on dinner." She nodded at him, and he slipped past her to walk out of the small room, cursing his ineptitude. He stiffened slightly when a cold hand grasped his, and he looked back at the angel's warm eyes that he was trying to help. She had a small smile on her face as if she knew just how difficult it was for him to talk to her. She squeezed his hand slightly, and he felt himself relaxing in her presence.

"Thank you, Rowan."

\----

Aelin slumped against the counter, the clothes Rowan provided to her clasped tightly in her cold hands. She stared at his retreating form long after the door to the bathroom had closed, unsure of what to do with the current situation. Had it just been that only morning that she fought for her life because he left her? The intense aches she felt all over her body proved nothing else. But she just felt physically and emotionally drained from the day.

Sighing, she placed the clothes next to the towel on the counter. Reaching into the shower, she turned the faucet on and was met with a warm blast of steam to her face. It prickled her skin, still chilled from her time outside, but finally, she felt some of the warmth return to her limbs. Slipping out of her clothes, she climbed into the stall, almost groaning at the water sluicing over her back. She relaxed under the spray, the water already doing wonders for her worn body.

It had been ages since she had been allowed a shower. The no interference rule didn't just mean meddling in human affairs. It also meant anything that might alert a human to an angel's presence. Which meant that no matter what happened on a mission, showers were out of the question unless she could do it without a human noticing. Sometimes she got lucky. Most of the time, she was just better off leaving it alone.

Despite everything, she was going to savor this moment. Indoor plumbing was a marvel of the human species, and even she couldn't help but be impressed. There wasn't a need for showers back home, but she couldn't deny the simple pleasure she took when presented the opportunity to take one. And unbeknownst to Rowan, he had allowed her that simple pleasure. She wondered if she could convince him to allow her to shower more often, but she didn't want to push her luck where he was concerned. Not now, when something seemed to be shifting.

She hadn't expected him to come to the roof. When she left earlier, she had resigned herself to a night out in the cold. She had enough power to stave off the brunt of the chill, but it still seeped into her bones in the short time she had been out there. And Rowan, even though some of the fight had left him, still seemed so angry towards her that it was just better off for her to stay away for the time being. So, she was surprised when he was up on the roof only a few minutes later, offering a place to stay and food to eat. And she had seen him smile.

It was a small, barely-there thing, but it was a smile, nonetheless. And she had been right; he looked so much more handsome without that scowl that usually lined his face.

She had been uncharacteristically quiet when they returned to the apartment, still caught up in that small tilt of his lips towards her, even as he handed her the clothes and directed her into the bathroom. The scowl had returned, but she could tell that it wasn't directed at her, not really. And she couldn't help but think that perhaps all of this was a sign that things were going to be okay. That she made the right call in going against the Tribunal and helping him.

Aelin finished her shower, feeling refreshed, if still tired, and stepped into the steam-filled bathroom. Snapping her wings open, she rustled the feathers, shaking off the last remnants of water. With no more than a thought, she let a tendril of fire curl around her body, drying the skin where it roamed. She loved it, her fire, but she didn't have much more than a few embers. But it did come in handy when she needed to dry herself quickly.

She frowned as she noted that her hair hung in a tangled mess down her back. She tried to separate it with her fingers to no avail. She didn't want to rummage through Rowan's drawers for a comb, not when they had only just achieved a tentative peace, but she desperately needed one. She figured that a quick look in the drawers wouldn't hurt, so long as she didn't move anything.

Aelin opened up the drawer closest to the sink and saw that it was mostly empty save for a toothbrush, some toothpaste, some floss, and other things needed by humans to keep their mouths healthy. She slowly shut it, opened the one underneath, and was met with various colognes and sprays, but no combs.

Opening a third drawer, she paused when she came across a small picture in a frame. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in a younger Rowan, grinning widely up at her, cheeks dimpled and hair falling in his eyes. It knocked the breath from her. When she thought he was handsome before with that brief glimpse of a smile was nothing compared to the unbridled joy on his face in the photo. He was attractive, yes, but when he smiled, truly smiled, he was _distractingly_ so.

She frowned when she noticed the rest of the picture. His arms were wrapped around a petite woman with chestnut-colored hair that had a soft curl to it and bright brown eyes. She was conventionally pretty, with full lips and delicate features. She, too, was smiling happily—her left hand out in front with a small ring placed on the third finger.

Aelin eyed the picture curiously. She knew enough about human customs to know that rings usually meant marriage. Was Rowan married? Was that why he had been so upset about her presence? She could undoubtedly understand an angry wife. She had seen plenty of them in her time. Of course, they couldn't see her, but that was beside the point. Perhaps he simply felt uncomfortable knowing that he had a strange woman in his apartment that his wife couldn't see.

But…she hadn't seen this woman around anywhere, not in the entire time she had been there. There were no other pictures of her placed anywhere that Aelin had seen, but she would admit that she hadn't spent much time looking. But this one had been hiding away in a drawer. Something about this didn't sit well with her. She knew she wouldn't find anything in her notebook. The Tribunal only gave her the information they felt was relevant. Apparently, this tidbit was not important enough to include. So if she wanted to know more, she would have to go to Rowan.

It could wait, she decided. She would work on building this fragile peace between them first.

\----

When Aelin walked into the kitchen, Rowan was nowhere to be found. He couldn't have gone far because she didn't feel that same pain she felt earlier when he escaped to the graveyard, but he wasn't in the apartment.

She wore the shirt he gave her, but it was so large on her frame that she felt like she was swimming in it. It also required her wings to stay folded up underneath the fabric. She longed to cut some slats in the back, but she wouldn't damage Rowan's shirt like that, no matter how uncomfortable she was. The pants were just as big, but she rolled down the top until she felt like they would finally stay up unassisted. The outfit was huge on her, but it was clean, and more importantly, warm. The pants were lined with some kind of fur that tickled her legs as she walked, but she felt pleasantly comfortable in them.

She took the time to really take a look around the apartment while he was gone. She hadn't had time in the past few days to get a grasp on Rowan's living situation. His living room was sparsely decorated, with a small couch and armchair for furniture. A TV was set up against the far wall. A bookcase in the corner with nothing but books on it. A desk that had a computer next to the dining room table. There were no other personal touches. No pictures or personal effects. It was just void and empty of any emotional attachment. 

The front door burst open, startling her, and Rowan walked in, carrying two boxes of something that smelled delicious. He stopped in the doorway, his green eyes catching with hers, an odd expression on his face before he continued towards the dining room table. Aelin followed and sat in one of the chairs at the table. Rowan silently placed a small box in front of her. The delightful aroma assaulted her nose in the best way possible, and she could hardly control herself as she ripped open the lid. A greasy, circular mess stared back at her, and she smiled.

Lifting her head towards Rowan, she noticed that he was staring at her again. But warmth bloomed in her chest when the side of his mouth quirked up.

Yes, things definitely were changing. And she would find a way to get some answers later.


	9. Part 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I know it has been a hot minute. I tried to update this sooner, but life kind of got in the way. But it’s here now! And I actually have some of the next part already in my brain ready to be put to paper, so you definitely won’t have to wait so long. I appreciate everyone’s patience.

A tense silence filled the apartment while Rowan watched Aelin happily munch away on the cheese pizza in front of her. He wasn’t sure what angels ate for food, but he figured that pizza was an excellent place to start. Conversations about her diet could wait until the next day when he could get out to a grocery store and buy them both something that wasn’t drowning in a puddle of grease. He had barely touched his own for the same reason, even though there was an almost unbearable pang of hunger rumbling around in his stomach.

Aelin hadn’t said anything since she started dinner, her eyes focused solely on her meal, surely feeling as awkward as Rowan felt about the whole situation. It had been a long time since he had allowed anyone in his apartment. And apart from the bartender down the street, he hadn’t seen a familiar face in even longer than that. Both Fenrys and Lorcan had tried, though. They tried for months to get him to move past everything that happened, but eventually, Rowan had just stopped answering their calls. Finally, they took the hint, and Rowan couldn’t remember the last time he had heard from the two people he had once called his closest friends.

But that didn’t matter now, now when he had an actual angel to contend with at his dining room table. The situation wasn’t the same as the house calls that his former friends had attempted in those first months. He now essentially had a new roommate, no matter how brief, encroaching on his solitude. There was a reason he sought the bottom of a bottle every night instead of comfort from his friends. Whiskey didn’t judge him for laying in bed all day, accomplishing nothing, barely able to eat, and contemplating how much better the world would be if it had been him in that car instead of Lyria.

He had no idea how he was going to survive the next month. Aelin’s compassion in the wake of everything hung heavy like a yoke around his neck, slowly crushing him with its weight. But he didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t stomach the idea of her sleeping in the cold on his roof, and he certainly would not be responsible for her death, no matter how much he wanted to send her away and escape the heavy gaze that felt like it pierced all the way into his soul. He was stuck.

“Thank you for dinner,” a soft voice shook him from his thoughts. “and for the clothes.”

Rowan looked over at Aelin. She sat demurely in the chair across from him at the table, a soft smile playing at her lips and her long, golden hair falling in a mess of tangles down her back. A soft, rosy color bloomed high on her cheeks, highlighting the bright turquoise of her eyes. Sitting this close to her, Rowan could see that her irises were surrounded by a ring of pure gold, molten in the low light of his apartment. Even though she looked more human than an angel at that moment, with her wings tucked away under his clothes, with her hair a mess, and that mysterious glow of hers dimmed, she still looked positively ethereal.

 _Beautiful_. The thought rattled through his mind without warning, and he couldn’t help but frown. That was the second time in as many days that he thought that, and he didn’t like it. She was an interloper in his life, at best, and it would do him well to remember that. But that didn’t stop a pang in his chest as he watched Aelin’s tentative smile vanish and her lips slowly slide down into a frown of her own.

“I know this situation isn’t what you want,” Aelin spoke quietly, dipping her head back towards the table.

“You think?” The words came out before he had time to process them fully, and Rowan cursed himself for his harsh tone. Aelin flinched slightly in her chair, and once again, guilt seeped into that pit in his stomach. He could tell that she was trying to move past the nastiness of the last few days, even though she had every right to be angry at him. The least he could do was extend the same courtesy to her. Sighing, he ran his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

“No, it’s okay,” Aelin waved him off, but he swore he could see a flash of hurt in those striking eyes of hers. “Nothing about this situation is normal. I can understand why you feel the way you do.”

Rowan’s confusion must have been apparent because Aelin continued. “None of what happened over the last few days should have ever occurred, starting with the fact that you can see me.”

He was definitely confused now. Wasn’t he supposed to see her? She was his guardian angel. He figured that he would be the only one to see her, much to his chagrin. But apparently, that was not the case. Or at least not what was supposed to be the case.

“So…” he started slowly. “I’m not supposed to know you’re here?”

She shook her head.

“Then, why do I?”

“I don’t know,” she said hesitantly. “I have never had this happen before. Usually, humans are not aware of our presence. We come, we complete our mission, and we return home. They – you – do not sense us while we are here.”

Rowan thought for a moment. “So what is supposed to happen?”

Aelin tensed slightly, her eyes narrowing at his question. A long moment dragged out in front of them, and Rowan softened his features. He pretended for a moment that he wasn’t trying to interrogate her.

“When I come to this plane, I am as corporeal as you see now. I can interact with the world around me – I can see, touch, smell, taste, and hear everything, the same as if I were a human. But humans, for all they have accomplished in this world, have not yet mastered the ability to see past the end of their own nose. You cannot perceive of our existence, and we work diligently to ensure that we do not interfere with your world enough for you to notice anything amiss.”

A heavy silence filled the apartment again as Rowan pondered what she had told him. Thinking over their conversation and their interactions from the last two days, they truly were an odd pair. For as much bravado as she displayed, Aelin seemed as lost as he was when it came to navigating the uncharted waters of their current situation. Had she ever interacted with a human before? It didn’t seem likely if humans couldn’t see angels. But perhaps they might be able to find some common ground, starting with why she was here in the first place.

“What’s this mission you have to complete, and what does it have to do with me?”

Aelin sat straight up in her chair, her eyes wide and panicked. Rowan tensed at the sudden change in her demeanor but said nothing. He watched as a million emotions flew across her face before she schooled herself into a practiced indifference.

“I told you, Rowan. I am your guardian angel.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. She was lying to him. He hadn’t known what to expect when he asked her that question, but he hadn’t expected her to lie to him.

He could have left it alone. He _should_ have left it alone. He knew he had no right to ask these questions of Aelin, not after what he already put her through. But she was lying, and it pissed him off. And he deserved to know why she was there, why she felt it was necessary to interrupt his life.

“That doesn’t tell me anything about what you do,” he all but ground out.

“I guard things, Rowan. That’s what a guardian angel does. You just so happen to be things, in this case.”

She punctuated her sarcastic comment with a roll of her eyes, and Rowan might have laughed at how utterly human she seemed in that moment if it hadn’t wholly rankled him.

“I think I deserve to know, seeing as it deals with me,” Rowan pressed angrily, his arms folding over his chest.

Aelin laughed brittlely. “You don’t deserve to know this.”

Rowan felt that tenuous peace that had appeared between them fade away like mist in the morning as that familiar anger bubbled up from the pit inside him.

“ _You’re_ the one that’s interrupting my life by being here. I didn’t ask for help. I didn’t ask to be sent a guardian angel. The least you could do is tell me why you’re here for me. You owe me.”

That had been the wrong thing to say. Aelin’s mood shifted almost immediately, from a tentative hesitancy to a swirling inferno of anger. Where her eyes had been molten earlier, they now blazed with fiery defiance.

“I owe you nothing, Rowan Whitethorn, especially not after the utter disdain you have shown me the last three days. You have not even acknowledged or apologized for your behavior, and yet, you dare to demand that I divulge secrets that no human ever has the right to know. What I choose to share with you, I do so of my own volition, not because you arrogantly attempt to intimidate me otherwise.”

Aelin pushed herself away from the table and stomped purposefully towards the bathroom. Rowan flinched when he heard the door slam. The tension in the air was palpable, and Rowan ran a rough hand down his face.

Well, to say he royally fucked that up was an understatement.

Seconds later, the bathroom door flung open, and Aelin blazed down the hallway. That flimsy dress of hers replaced the borrowed clothes, which he could only assume lay on the floor of the bathroom. She paused in the middle of his living room, stretching her wings wide, savoring the freedom from her earlier confinement, before turning her ire on him once more.

“Thank you again for the meal and the clothing,” Aelin said, her voice dripping with venom. “But I am taking my leave of you. Obviously, my presence causes you nothing but anger, so I will stay out of your way as much as possible. Should you need anything, I will be up on the roof.”

She sketched a mocking bow and vanished in front of him. And Rowan was left alone once more.

\---

Well, it had been less than an hour, and she was back on the roof.

Aelin shivered slightly in the cold of the night, wrapping her wings in tight around her torso to ward off the worst of the wind, but she would be damned before she set foot back in that apartment. Gods, that man was infuriating. If he was any indication, it was no wonder that the angels had spent millennia keeping themselves hidden. Anything would be better than having to interact with them.

She knew he had questions. Hell, she had them, too. She had been prepared to answer those. She thought it would be nothing more than some mild curiosity into the angeldom, maybe a few passing questions about what she did while on Earth. But Rowan had gone right for her throat.

And she could tell that he knew something was wrong. Aelin saw his expression change the second she let her guard slip at the table. She had tried to pull back, to throw him off, but he latched onto that shift with hawk-like precision. And then he kept pressing on her to give up everything.

The angry outburst hadn’t been in her plans for the evening. She had planned on repairing this mess between her and Rowan. He had extended an olive branch, and she had taken it. She had planned on basking in the warmth of his apartment, the simple enjoyment from the shower, and the fresh, clean clothes that she swore smelled achingly like pine and snow. Even dinner had been nice, if a little awkward, until she had to go and take it right back to where they started, all because he had to ask the one question she couldn’t answer.

Well, couldn’t wasn’t precisely the right word. Aelin technically could answer him. There wasn’t anything expressing forbidding her from telling him the truth about her mission. It probably never crossed the Tribunal’s mind to implement anything of the sort since angels never had to interact with any humans beyond what was necessary to complete their duty. But he could barely stand being around her as it was, barely accept any help she offered him. She feared what would happen to him if she told him the truth.

Aelin sighed, sliding down the stairwell wall, hoping to ward off the night air even more. She was well and truly exhausted. The day had not been kind to her, and it seemed that the remaining time she had here would be tough on her as well. Another reason why angels worked to avoid human interaction – it made things so much simpler when all she had to do was sit around and wait. Not a chance of that happening with Rowan.

She drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face in her arms. She flicked her wrist slightly, and a small fire danced on the roof, casting everything in a soft glow. It usually calmed her, the fire, but tonight it was born out of necessity. The fire warmed the small alcove, and Aelin felt goosebumps rise on her chilled skin. She wished the fire could be larger, grander, and it might have been, eons ago. But her wishes had stopped being granted, and now all she had was a mere pittance struggling to keep her warm on the chilled night.

But…it was better than nothing. And within moments, she fell asleep, curled up against the wall, that small fire winking out into nothing.


	10. Part 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is part 10! Hope you all enjoy! Thank you for sticking with me <3

It had taken him all of an hour to fuck things up again.

Rowan sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes with his rough fingertips. He had stared at the spot where Aelin had vanished, yet again, for longer than he cared to admit, but really, he couldn’t blame her. She was right. He truly was an asshole of the highest order, and now, she was back again on that roof, in that slip dress she wore, that olive branch burned to ashes in the span of a dinner.

Lyria had always said that his anger was like a tempest, constantly churning away beneath the surface. Rowan was so angry before meeting her, but Lyria had been the balm to soothe the storm inside of him. After everything, he supposed it was no surprise that he was quicker to anger, quicker to react to annoyances and inconveniences, and quicker to judge others' motives, which is precisely what he had done with Aelin.

He knew that she had been lying earlier. She had all but admitted it. But instead of letting it go, because he didn’t know her, and she didn’t know him, and he had treated her horribly, like the absolute prick that he was since she had arrived, he pressed. It had incensed him that she lied. So he pressed until she snapped. And when she had said he didn’t deserve to know, it cracked the fragile hold he held on the rage swirling inside of him.

Aelin couldn’t have known how deep that one remark struck him.

The second she said it, brown eyes flashing in resentment and sadness flitted through his mind, a ring left on the counter, a door slamming shut in the night, and an unbearable silence that had been broken by a phone call that changed everything.

_You don’t deserve to know, Rowan._

No, he didn’t. He didn’t deserve anything in his horrible, miserable life. Not love, not friends, and certainly not a guardian angel who was there to help him, _had helped him_. A guardian angel who was sleeping on the roof in the cold, when she could be sleeping inside where it was warm and comfortable. She even changed out of the clothes he gave her, clothes that might have warded off the worst of the cold as if she needed to rip any trace of him from her skin. All because he couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. So he was going to fix it.

Pushing away from the table, Rowan grabbed a jacket and slipped on his shoes. Opening his window for the second time that evening, he pushed himself out onto the landing, cursing when he realized how much the temperature had dropped even in the short amount of time they had been inside. He scaled the ladder quickly, the metal clanging against the side of the building, the frigid rungs biting into his palms.

Night had fallen completely, and there was little light on the roof. Much of the glow from the street did not extend beyond the sidewalk, so Rowan was left to navigate the space somewhat blindly. His apartment building was expansive, and the roof was no different. It was covered in metal chutes and fixtures for the residents that it was somewhat difficult to traverse. It was also open and exposed to the world around it, which left very few options for Aelin to have found cover. But even as Rowan walked around, he couldn’t see that golden glow that he had already come to associate with her.

When he approached the stairwell, a soft whimper permeated the night, and he felt his heart clench in his chest. Rushing towards the structure in the corner, he looked around until his eyes fell upon a small body crumpled on the ground.

Aelin was lying next to the wall, curled up in a fetal position with her wings draped haphazardly as if desperately trying to protect her from the cold. She had no glow, which would explain why he had such difficulty finding her. The slight, ever-present twitch in those brilliant feathers indicated that she was shivering. And the worst of it was that he couldn’t tell if she had fallen asleep on purpose or lost consciousness due to the exposure.

Shame roiled through him at the sight of her, almost choking him. He would deal with his emotions later. First, he needed to get Aelin indoors and warm. He didn’t even know if angels could get hypothermia, but he’d rather not find out and have the death of another woman weighing heavily on his conscience.

He leaned over and scooped Aelin up into his arms, wincing as his hands came into contact with her chilled skin. He molded her into his chest, grasping her tightly as he realized just how much she was shivering. When she changed back into her dress, much of her body had been exposed. While winter hadn’t yet arrived, it wasn’t too far off, and the nights had become fairly cold. Aelin dressed as if she were headed to the nearest beach party. The first he would do after apologizing would be to procure some warmer clothing for her.

Rowan frowned when he realized that Aelin hadn’t stirred as he situated her in his arms. If she only been asleep, she would have woken up, right? The fact that she didn’t wake concerned him and his hold around her tightened. He needed to get her inside.

The door to the stairwell was just on the other side of the wall from him. Shifting Aelin slightly in his arms, he reached out to twist the handle and used his hip to push the door open the rest of the way. Light from the stairwell spilled out onto the roof, causing Rowan to squint with the abrupt change. He carefully navigated the stairs, Aelin tucked tight against his chest. Soft whimpers came out of her mouth as the shivering increased now that she was finally out of the cold, but she still did not wake up. It only served to worry Rowan more.

When Rowan reached his floor, he shoved the door open and practically sprinted to his apartment. He was thankful that he left the door unlocked when he retrieved the pizza earlier and the door opened with ease. Rowan stalked past his living room and straight into his bedroom, where he laid Aelin down on his bed. He pulled his blankets over her, tucking them under her still shivering body, taking care of her wings. As if on instinct, they folded against Aelin’s back, allowing Rowan the freedom to pull the covers up over her shoulders. And then he sat down and waited.

He didn’t know how much time had passed while he watched Aelin. She hardly moved once her shivering had finally subsided, and if he weren’t clocking each and every one of her breaths, he might have assumed the worst. But eventually, Aelin shifted, snuggling close against his pillow and pulling the blankets in tighter around her. Rowan loosed a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. He leaned up next to her and pressed the back of his hand against her cheek and was pleased to find that it was warm to the touch.

He sat back down and pressed himself against the edge of the bed, the stress of the day leaking out of him like ichor. He rested his arms on his knees, his head thumping against the mattress. He was a selfish, stupid asshole. It was no wonder no one wanted to be around him – he could barely stomach himself, the drunk, miserable mess he was. But Aelin stayed. Yes, he knew that she had to, but despite that, she had stayed. She had helped. And Rowan needed to do better for her. She was just as lost as he was, and she was navigating it the best that she could. He had not been handling it the best that he could. Quite the opposite, in fact. But that ended now.

He looked over at the angel sleeping in his bed, and once again, he was struck by how beautiful she was. Even half-frozen with her hair still tangled from her earlier shower, he couldn’t stop staring at her. Rowan had always thought Lyria was the most beautiful woman in the world. Even after her death, Rowan had seen many beautiful women when he ventured outside his apartment, but he had never spared any of them more than a passing glance. But Aelin…

Aelin was magnificent.

He hadn’t spent much time taking her in, but at that moment, he found himself cataloging every detail. Now that the color had returned to her skin, a rosy hue filled her cheeks, framed by long dark lashes. She had a small smattering of freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her upturned nose, and her mouth had turned down in a slight pout, her full bottom lip jutting out slightly. Asleep, she looked calm, serene even, with her brows unwrinkled and worry unetched from her face – a much-preferred state over the rage from earlier or the sadness he had only glimpsed in those brilliant blue and gold eyes.

He wondered briefly if all angels were as resplendent or if Aelin was simply beyond comparison. And unlike before, the thought didn’t leave him reeling with betrayal.

Rowan barely stifled a yawn, looking at the clock on his nightstand. It was late. With Aelin occupying his bed, he stood off the floor and made his way to the living room. He stopped by the hall closet to grab a blanket and a pillow and plopped on the couch, toeing his shoes off next to the coffee table. The sofa was too small for him to lay out entirely, but it would do for the night. And though he slept most of the afternoon, Rowan was out within minutes of laying his head on the pillow.

\---

_Aelin was enveloped by the smell of pines and fresh snow as she ran through Oakwald, the sprawling pine forest that held so many of her childhood memories. She felt the sun’s warmth on her face as she darted between the trees, laughter pouring out of her. A large hand clasped in hers, and she looked up to see flashes of a boyish grin and messy hair that she could never quite tame._

_Suddenly, her world was on fire. She held out her hand to calm the flames, but she found that part of her had been stripped away, stolen. She watched as her home burned, tears leaving tracks in her soot-covered face. She turned towards the boy that held her hand, to ask him to help, to ask him to do something, but he was no longer there. Her scream echoed in the forest as she watched him disintegrate into ash, consumed by the fire that was as surely consuming her entire world. And within moments, the fire reached her, and she let it consume her as well._

Aelin’s eyes blinked open, squinting in the sunlight that poured into the room. Her heart thudded heavily against her chest, her screams resonating loudly in her skull. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, hoping to calm herself after the nightmare. It wasn’t the first time she had it. No, it was the same one she’d had for thousands of years, ever since the day Terrasen fell. Except this time, it was so vivid that she could still smell the pines and the fresh snow. Breathing the scent in calmed her racing heart, and she burrowed herself deep into a soft mound of warmth and comfort.

The next time she woke, it was in a panic.

She sat up in bed, looking around at where she was. Taking in the grey walls illuminated by the midmorning sun, the minimalist furniture, and her mountain of soft, white bed linens, Aelin realized that she was in Rowan’s room. And Rowan was nowhere to be seen. Had she snuck back inside without realizing it? Aelin tried to remember everything that happened once she went back up to the roof, but she came up empty.

It wasn’t like her to sleepwalk, but she supposed there was a first time for everything. What she really wanted to know was why Rowan didn’t wake her. He could have very quickly gotten her out of his bed and out of his apartment, but instead, he let her sleep. Where did he stay?

She turned around and looked at the other side of the bed. It was perfectly made, with the blankets and sheets tucked in carefully. Rowan could have slept there and remade the bed, but after everything, she doubted that he would, which meant that he slept somewhere else for the night. So why had he let her stay at all?

The sounds of dishes scraping against the counter surprised Aelin, and she knew that’s where Rowan must be. Although she didn’t want to leave the warmth of the bed, she needed to check on him and then get out of the apartment as quickly as possible. She didn’t want to overstay her welcome and risk upsetting him further. Rolling out from underneath the blankets, Aelin adjusted her clothing and made her way out of his room. As soon as she opened the door, she was hit with various smells from the kitchen, her stomach rumbling in reply.

She moved silently down the hall and then peeked around the corner when it opened up into the kitchen. Rowan was standing next to the stove, wearing a white t-shirt stretched tightly across his broad chest and a loose pair of pants that hung low on his hips. His silver-blonde hair was mussed and damp, hanging limply around his head. Aelin surmised that he must have just taken a shower. He was focused on the pan in front of him, cooking a dish with eggs and vegetables.

Suddenly, Rowan turned towards her direction and stopped as he realized Aelin was standing before him. She hadn’t realized she was staring until she looked up and her eyes met his deep pine green ones. Her heart clenched as she recalled her nightmare but pushed the feeling away to avoid drawing any unnecessary parallels between it and the man standing in front of her. He cast his eyes down towards the floor, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“I…um…I’m making some breakfast if you want any.”

Aelin shook her head. “No, um, that’s okay. I’m just going to head back to the roof. I don’t want to burden you with my presence.”

She hated how the words came out, but she would stay true to what she told him the night before. She would stay out of his way unless absolutely necessary. She had no desire to deal with his anger any longer, even if it seemed to be far away from the kitchen at that moment. She turned away from him and prepared to vanish. But before she could, she heard a soft voice behind her.

“I’m sorry.”

Looking back at Rowan, she saw his head hanging in shame. Her eyes widened at the soft admission, her mouth opening slightly. Rowan continued.

“You are not a burden, Aelin. I’m sorry for ever making you feel that way. I’m sorry for the way that I’ve treated you, for everything that I’ve done to make your life miserable since you’ve arrived here. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Aelin stood silent, staring Rowan down in shock. Rowan just drew in a breath and continued. “I would like to start over if you’re okay with that. You’re going to be here for a few more weeks, right? I think it would be better for both of us if I tried not to be such a dick.”

Aelin snorted a bit but felt the corners of her mouth tick upwards.

“I would like that very much.”


End file.
